Less frequently spotted than a grouse with a sideline in improvisational theatre, the five star review is a rare beast indeed. Today, however, we have one.

Tim Minchin is his name, performing murderous songs about Guardian reviewers is (partly) his game, but his show of songs, jokes and dismembering, of superstitions not just critics, has wowed Shona Craven in the Herald.

Thanks to the changing times, trends and ascent of Russell Brand, she writes, Minchin's time is now: "The bare feet and eyeliner mark Minchin out as a metrosexual trendsetter rather than an oddball; his songs mocking religion and superstition are met with vigorous approval, as well as gales of delighted laughter."

Craven, who has surely not had her head turned by the eyeliner, believes "The entire show is of such a fantastically high standard that it's difficult to pick out highlights", but goes on to do so, citing an R'n'B ballad about the statistical improbability of love and his "measured response to an inexplicably damning newspaper review from three years ago" (yes, one in the Guardian).

Elsewhere it's back to threesville, the star category that is supposed to stand for middling but often seems more like shorthand for critical cowardice; the rating you give when you don't want to go out on a limb.

This is the feeling you get when you read Dominic Maxwell's review of Reginald D Hunter in the Times. It's a three star, but it feels like something lower, as Maxwell acknowledges Hunter's abilities as a performer, but seems in no way enamoured of the material.

"There is something disingenuous about the way the American comic lobs in high-grade opinon bombs and then goes, 'Hey, what's all the fuss about?'," says Maxwell. He lists Hunter's topics as feminism, rape and the ubiquitous Josef Fritzl.

"Hunter bounces from joke to joke with a readiness that does more to maintain comic momentum than build an argument," Maxwell writes. "His hour flies by, partly because of his incredibly poised delivery, partly because the show I saw was only 45 minutes long."

Ba-doom-tish.

Finally a word for the Liverpool-themed review in this morning's Telegraph. Now the Telegraph doesn't do star ratings, but that hasn't stopped a whiff of soft-soaping coming off Charlotte Bailey's appreciation of Scouse comics John Bishop and Kate Robbins.

Of Bishop's show, she writes: "You can ask for no better glimpse into the psyche of the city of Liverpool this year."

Praise indeed.

She goes on: "Bishop's easygoing comedy is irresistibly charming and offers real hope for the place of his birth."

Which makes it sound like the city's been at the centre of a violent conflict rather than a mismanaged arts expo.

But the best is reserved for Robbins, a former impressionist who also wrote the theme tune to Cilla Black's 80s TV show, Surprise Surprise.

"Accompanied by a slick band, Robbins weaves brilliant anecdotes of her upbringing and hilarious impersonations of Cilla, Cher and Victoria Wood in and around rousing renditions of Ferry Cross the Mersey."

This quite frankly horrifying prospect is, according to Bailey, wholly uplifting and "feels like you're watching one of the last, great traditional entertainers".